


Lost for Words

by hazelNuts



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, POV Stiles, SO MUCH FLUFF, nothing but fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5098340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelNuts/pseuds/hazelNuts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the bottom of the cardboard box Stiles finds a small, bright red, plastic box that looks vaguely familiar. When he opens it, he barks out a laugh.<br/>‘I feel like I’m missing something here?’ Derek says looking at the crayons with raised eyebrows.</p><p>Or: Where Stiles and Derek use crayons for all the important questions and announcements, because sometimes you need more then just your words.</p><p>For Sterek Week - Day 4: A Box of Crayons</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost for Words

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really bad at tagging. If you think I forgot any, please let me know in the comments.

They’re cleaning out the attic, because his dad is trying to make him do as many chores as he can before he leaves for college after the summer. It’s hot and dusty, and Stiles isn’t sure why Derek agreed to help him, but he’s glad he did. If he’d asked Scott they probably would’ve gone down stairs to play videogames an hour ago. And some of these boxes are heavy, which means he gets to see Derek’s muscles do wonderful things shifting the things around.

‘What’s this?’ Derek asks, pulling an unmarked box towards him.

‘No idea.’ Stiles moves to sit next to him, enjoying the way Derek’s body presses against his before pushing it to the back of his mind again. Scott would’ve distracted him on purpose, but he’s realizing that Derek distracting him by accident is even worse.

Derek pulls the box open and Stiles tries to slam it shut again, but it’s too late.

‘Are these your kindergarten things?’ Derek asks a note of amusement in his voice.

‘Yes. You are not allowed to make fun of me. It’s not like you were some kind of Van Gogh when you were five.’

‘I think you might have been a Picasso, though,’ Derek smirks, holding up a drawing that Stiles thinks is a car. Or maybe it’s an elephant. A castle’s as good a guess as any other.

‘Shut up,’ he mumbles, but starts digging through the box himself. At the bottom he finds a small, bright red, plastic box that looks vaguely familiar. When he opens it, he barks out a laugh.

‘I feel like I’m missing something here?’ Derek says looking at the crayons with raised eyebrows.

‘Mom and dad hid these from me because I was always drawing on the walls. I cried for three weeks, and all I asked for my birthday and Christmas that year were crayons.’

‘I think your parents made the right call,’ Derek muses. He holds up the drawing of the car/elephant/castle, laughing when Stiles punches him in the shoulder.

‘I wonder if they still work.’

‘They’re crayons, not markers. It’s not like they have ink that can dry out.’

‘Come on,’ Stiles says. He doesn’t wait for Derek, already climbing down the ladder.

An hour later, they’re still drawing. Stiles has a stack of drawings of giant black, grumpy looking dogs, claiming they’re portraits of Derek, and Derek is shielding the drawing he’s been working on for the past thirty minutes from Stiles’ view.

‘That’s got to be something really special,’ Stiles says. ‘The wait better be worth it, big guy.’

‘I hope so.’

‘Well, I’m going to get something to drink. You want anything?’

‘Iced tea.’

Stiles quickly pours two glasses of iced tea, extra ice. When he comes back to the living room, Derek is leaning against the couch, his drawing gone.

‘Hey, where’s-‘ Stiles starts, but then he sees that the drawing on top of his own pile isn’t his.

It’s a drawing of two people, sitting at a table. They’re drinking, eating and laughing. One of them has messy brown hair, and the other the most magnificent eyebrows Stiles has ever seen. Above, in neat cursive, it reads: _Will you go on a date with me?_

‘This was so worth the wait,’ Stiles grins.

~

The crayons go back into the box with all Stiles’ other drawings. He doesn’t really forget about them, they make a great story after all, but he definitely doesn’t expect to find them on Derek’s coffee table when he’s in Beacon Hills from Berkeley for the weekend.

‘Derek?’ he calls out, but there’s no answer. He drops his stuff by the couch and goes in search of his boyfriend.

Stiles is happy that Derek gave up the loft, but looking for him in this apartment is a lot trickier. The loft had been dark, but most of it was one room. Finding Derek had taken no more than a turn of his head.

‘Derek, you home?’ For a moment the old fear of something having happened rises up, but nothing’s happened in Beacon Hills since that little misunderstanding with the faeries, Christmas break of his freshman year in college. It’s been two blissful years of peace.

‘I’m on the balcony!’ Derek calls out.

Stiles steps outside and moves behind Derek, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing his face into Derek’s back. The fact that Derek is currently functioning as a shield from the cold wind is pure coincidence.

‘Why are you out here?’ Stiles mumbles into Derek’s shirt.

‘Thinking.’

‘About what?’

‘Us.’

‘What about us?’ He’s not worried. They fit amazingly well together. Not that they don’t argue or fight, because they do, but Stiles has never been afraid of something breaking them.

Derek pulls out of the embrace and grabbing his hand, drags him to the bedroom. Stiles grins. He’s a little tired from the journey, but not _that_ tired. Except, when they reach the bedroom, Derek doesn’t go in, he stays by the door, nervously watching as Stiles walks further into the room.

On the bed is a little book. Well, not actually a book. It’s a couple sheets of paper, folded in half so it resembles a book. Stiles looks questioningly at Derek, but he just looks back at him with a hopeful gaze and a nervous smile.

On the “cover” there is a house, drawn in crayon. That explains the crayons on the coffee table. The first page is a drawing of Derek in the bottom corner, the exaggerated eyebrows making Stiles chuckle, and a drawing of Stiles in the top corner. Between them is a long winding road, and they both look sad. The second page is a drawing of them together, holding hands and looking happy. The next drawing is again the two of them holding hands, but this time they’re standing in front of a house.

Stiles is pretty sure what Derek is trying to say, but he flips to final page to be sure.

 _Will you move in with me?_.

‘Really?’ he can’t help but ask.

Derek nods, his nervous smile turning into an excited grin when Stiles jumps him and starts peppering his face with kisses.

‘Yes, of course, you romantic dork,’ Stiles laughs.

‘And I was thinking,’ Derek starts, looking nervous again, ‘that I could move to San Francisco with you. I kind of miss you when you’re not here.’

‘Yeah, I miss you, too,’ Stiles admits.

~

It’s become a tradition. Whenever they plan something special, they use the crayons. They use them for anniversaries, birthdays, Valentine’s Day, Christmas, or just when one of them needs some cheering up. The only rule they made about the crayons is that they can only be used for good things. Some of them had to be replaced after a while. The black one was the first because Stiles kept using it to draw a huge black wolf whenever he needed to draw Derek. They always use them until there’s nothing but a tiny crumb left, which is why Stiles is surprise when he comes home one day, all the lights off, and the red box open on their coffee table, filled with new crayons.

He frowns and is about to pull out his phone to ask Derek what happened, when the light switches on. There are little hearts everywhere, and in every colour, not just red and pink, but also purple, yellow, orange, blue. Stiles looks around in amazement. This must have taken Derek days to prepare.

The biggest heart is stuck to their window, it’s almost as big as Stiles himself and is made of several pieces of paper taped together. In the middle of it is a drawing of wedding cake. The two grooms on top look a whole lot like him and Derek.

‘Oh my g-‘

‘Stiles.’

Derek’s voice makes him turn around so fast he nearly trips over his own feet. Derek is wearing a suit that Stiles doesn’t remember him having, but it doesn’t look like it’s rented either. He freezes completely when Derek steps closer and drops down on one knee.

‘Stiles, I-‘

‘You fucker!’ Stiles interrupts him. Derek’s eyes widen, but before he can ask what Stiles means, Stiles tackles him to the ground and kisses him angrily.

‘I can’t believe you beat me!’ he yells after finally pulling back.

‘Beat you?’ Derek asks, looking up at him, thoroughly confused. There’s not much left of his carefully styled outfit, his hair’s a mess, tie undone, shirt rucked up, and his lips look red and swollen.

‘I had this big plan for next weekend!’

‘Oh. Sorry,’ Derek says, not looking sorry at all.

Stiles snorts and then dives in for another kiss.

‘At least we won’t have to go looking for wedding rings anymore,’ he mumbles against Derek’s lips.

~

This time Stiles is certain he got there before Derek, mostly because he was the first to see the letter, and Derek wasn’t home when they got the call. He’s waiting on the couch for his husband to come home, the little package in his lap, excitement making his skin buzz. He doesn’t have to wait long, Derek walks in at the same time he always does.

‘Hey, what’s going on?’ Derek asks.

‘Here,’ Stiles says, handing him the little present. It’s very neatly wrapped, because he asked Lydia to do it. He’s pretty sure she guessed the reason behind it, but she didn’t say anything. Simply smiling and giving Stiles a hug when he’d said goodbye.

Derek opens his present slowly, his puzzlement turning to bewilderment when he sees what’s in it.

‘You got me a box of crayons,’ he says, like saying it out loud will help him to make sense of it. By his unchanged expression, Stiles can see it didn’t work.

‘I got you a _tiny_ box of crayons.’ Stiles hands Derek the letter he’d been hiding behind his back. ‘A tiny box for a tiny person.’

Derek doesn’t read the letter, he keeps look from the logo of the adoption agency, to the box in his other hand, to Stiles.

‘They approved our application?’

‘Yes, they did.’

‘We’re going to be dads?’

‘Yes, we are.’

Derek pulls him into a hug, and Stiles eagerly steps into the embrace. He thinks of the box in the top drawer of his desk in their study, still filled with crayons. He can’t believe he was ever mad at his parents for hiding them from him, because if they hadn’t, maybe Derek never would’ve found them.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://fandom-madnessess.tumblr.com/).


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